


a soft place to land

by fimbulvetr



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Age Difference, Footnotes, Future Fic, M/M, Pining, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-03 00:21:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21170312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fimbulvetr/pseuds/fimbulvetr
Summary: It's the grand opening of Tsumugi's new cafe: Snowdrop! Many of the Mankai alumni will be attending to help celebrate. However, on the day, someone's rat face is missing...





	1. good things ahead

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mayuzumi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayuzumi/gifts).

> this was a commission for the lovely rin! but i failed and took way, way too long than expected, so this is the first chapter (of possibly more than two), posted with their gracious permission.
> 
> this is set when tsumugi is about 30, and banri is 23. i can give a run-down of everyone else's situations if interested. o/

Today’s the day; the grand opening of Snowdrop Cafe. It's the culmination of months, years of work and stress. Many late nights pouring over building plans and backsplash samples, counter samples, table arrangements, light fixtures, all in the service of making his vision of an ideal cafe a reality.

Tsumugi’s wired. He's been awake since four in the morning, having insisted that the owner should be up with the workers because it didn't seem fair otherwise, and as 7AM approaches, he only regrets that decision a little.

Finding a kitchen crew turned out easier than he’d expected. It was the head patissier that he thought would be the problem until ... well, the Mankai Graduate Network. After their generation of Mankai, the members all stayed in touch in various ways, LIME chats the most popular method. Even years after they moved out of the dorms, the group chats still burst into activity every other day.

The day after he’d made an Inste post[1] announcing his new business, he’d gotten a call from none other than Fushimi Omi, asking if he could help out in the kitchen.  
  
Omi was always generous to a fault, but for a highly sought after photographer to 'take a break' just to help out a friend’s cafe? There’s no _way_ Tsumugi wouldn’t fight him that. The verbal fist fight turned out no easier than engaging Omi an _actual_ fist fight, so he had no choice but to give in.

Tsumugi had a head patissier. All he had to do after that was find the best baristas in town. He'd already had years of experience going around local cafes judging just that, and he owed that to a certain someone.  
  
Tsumugi tries not to think about that person too much these days, though.  
  
Looking back, it almost seems strange how friendly they'd gotten, and how openly. There'd been nothing _untoward_ about their relationship, of course, but even so... He couldn't help but think there was something there, or something that could be there.  
  
He'd once been able to find his old Instegram 'tagged posts' after some pleading and help from Tasuku, who remarked that it may as well be a Settsu Banri fan account.  
  
"They're all nice shots, so you know Settsu took them," Tasuku had said, scrolling through the posts for him. They're all 'two-shots' from their occasional cafe outings, after leaders meetings... That sort of thing.  
  
Tasuku's right, of course. Banri had been in charge of taking the picture.  
  
Banri doesn't _need_ to try to get a nice shot of himself, he already knows he looks great. And Tsumugi... Tsumugi always looks nervous in those photos, his smile watery.  
  
Tsumugi wonders if Banri remembers those at all.

He's too nervous to consider the idea that Banri might be among the familiar faces already peering in. Tsumugi had expected some turnout from his generation of Mankai, but with schedules being as they were, he hadn't anticipated almost twenty of them.

Tsumugi can see Kazunari jumping and waving through the glass doors, joined by other familiar flailing limbs. That enthusiasm is infectious, energising like a shot of caffeine—maybe that's why his own hands are trembling. Maybe it's not just the nerves.

"Ready to start the day?" Omi asks gently, clapping a big hand on Tsumugi's shoulder.

Tsumugi takes a breath in, glancing around the store, trying not to think about who may or may not be there. He finds a little bit of serenity here, a pocket of quiet. He lets himself breathe, and allows that pang of nostalgia for the Actor's Cafe to put a smile to his lips.

And then he focuses, going down a mental checklist. Pastries in the displays, savouries in the warmers, and the espresso machines are preheated, ready to go. Each table has its own little floral flourish—a sprig of mimosa in a little glass jar.

Tsumugi smooths the front of his apron, tightens the straps just a little, and then finally smiles back at Omi, nodding.

"It's show time."

The former Summer Troupe are the first to settle at a table, with a notable exception.

"I want a latte with a bear on it," Yuki orders promptly. Adding as afterthought: "That loser said to say sorry he's not here, by the way."

That doesn't surprise Tsumugi; Tenma's schedule is famously hectic, though he tries his best to be there when a Mankai graduate has some sort of event. An apology delivered via Yuki just makes it seem all the more last minute and urgent, and Tsumugi appreciates it. How could he not?

Kazunari and Muku between them order a selection of the most aesthetically pleasing and sweet-sounding items on the menu that could cover half the table, with Kumon making the best of it. Misumi, of course, goes for the triangular cookies with an impossible name[2] that Omi has been trialing in preparation.

"Thank you for all your help, Kazu-kun," Tsumugi says once he's taken their orders. He truly couldn't have done it without Kazunari's design skills, marketing genius, and whatever a 'social media kablam' is.

Kazunari beams. "No sweat for a UMC."

Tsumugi nods, happily pretending he knows what that means, and excuses himself to serve the next table—a trio of queerly nervous college girls staring at him with big, shining eyes.

Tsumugi gets the girls' orders back to the counter, floating on the feeling he still gets after all this time when someone cares enough to want his autograph— on Snowdrop Cafe's branded napkins, no less!

When he heads back to serve another table, he's still a little dazed until one sharp, unmistakable voice cuts through his reverie.

"Tsumugi-kun!" calls Arisugawa Homare.

Homare has changed the least of all of them, you could say, since their time at Mankai. He's still impossible to miss, both by appearance and by volume.

"I've composed a poem for this occasion," Homare announces, solemnly. "_Ahem_. Our _fleeting_ meeting! We see the _ennui_ of each snowdrop as it falls, dies, _dissipates_! No more are we a snowdrop in a maid's warm palm, no more are we a snowflake upon her finger's delicate tip... Ah, do you hear? Liberation!"

There's a silence here. Homare clutches his elbow, rising to his feet, eyes closed, determined to continue the spectacle. "Liberation!" he shouts again. "_Catharsis_! We have achieved... as mere mortals, the—"

"Alice. Loud," complains the fluffy pile of hair on the table next to him, deigning to rise just to manhandle Homare back into his seat. Homare accepts it with a huff.

Tsumugi smiles, thinking back to early morning breakfasts before a Winter Troupe practice—especially with Tasuku as lead...

"Hisoka-kun, do you want to order?"

"Nothing for him," cuts in a familiar voice from the other side of Hisoka. "Owner, I'd like to try your spicy aztec chilli hot chocolate with no marshmallows." Saying that, Utsuki Chikage is all smiles.

Tsumugi smiles back, and writes down his order.

Nobody ever questions why Chikage will sit with the Winter Troupe sometimes. Everyone knows the answer, but the less they think about it the better.

Tasuku, Azuma, and Guy end up with their own table. A nice, quiet, awkward table, as the two taller men struggle to think of conversation topics while Azuma sips happily from his glass of wine. Which is interesting, because Tsumugi didn't remember any being on the drinks menu.

Itaru and Sakuya are sat at the table behind them, with Tsuzuru and Citron engaged in a lively back-and-forth about something Tsumugi may never understand.

Sakuya is having a one-sided disagreement with Itaru's Pride as an Adult ("Sakuya, that 6 SSR pull from the other night is worth paying your every meal for the rest of your life"), and the classic topic of who's picking up the bill. Tsumugi's relieved, for some reason, that Sakuya seems to be exactly the boy he used to be. Too good and oblivious for his own good, but too precious to change as a result of that.

Everything today will be on the house, of course, but Tsumugi doesn't let them know just yet. A whole different argument is surely to come of that.

Tsumugi ends up reaching the former Autumn Troupe last. Juza's become the leader of the troupe, and it's hard to tell by his speech it but it's clear in his eyes, in the the way he carries himself.

Tsumugi hadn't had to ask what he wanted. As soon as Juza confirmed his attendance, Omi and Tsumugi decided that it would be a non-stop pastries-palooza, Belgian style hot chocolates and refills whenever desired. Sweets and delicacies cover every available space on the table. The man's eyes are the size of saucers as he gracelessly piles as much as possible onto his own plate.

There'd normally be a snort of disgust, then something like "You wanna go, Settsu?" followed by "That an invitation, asshole?"

But Settsu Banri isn't here, so it doesn't escalate. There's no fist-fights over the montblancs and the eclairs.

Settsu Banri isn't here, so instead...

"—Tsumugi-san. Omi-san." Juza's deep voice breaks him out of his thoughts. "This is... really something. Thanks... and 'grats."

Taichi has craftily manhandled Omi into a chair by now, despite protests that he's still working and _what if the quiches burn_, aided by some lazy nudging from Azami.

Sakyo nods after their brief interaction, even stands up to shake his hand, rambling something about finally a legitimate business with a vision, and how important keeping top of your finances is...

More than a few of his former company members volunteered as workers—Taichi and Kumon most enthusiastically.

Taichi's certainly seen those dramas where girls go ga-ga at the hot barista, and damned if Taichi doesn't want to become that! It's not so wild a dream, really. Tsumugi doesn't think it'll be long till he sees Taichi's shining face beaming back to him on a TV screen.

Then there's Kumon the anti-sweet tooth. If he can develop his patisserie skills with Omi, perhaps he can save Juza some money by providing his own pastries. And who knows, Kumon might even develop a newfound perspective on sweets.

It'll be a lively kitchen, at least. Tsumugi takes them both on as trainees.

And finally... Tsumugi's exhausted at the end of the day.

He wonders how Izumi handled it. A cafe is not a theatre, but in the way that it counts, certainly. Izumi was a _leader_. Strong, no-nonsense, infinitely kind Izumi, who couldn't make it to the opening today and it broke her heart. Strong, kind Izumi, who left flower stands outside the building as an apology for her absence. One of the stands featured a very crude drawing of Michael amidst a wreath of dark blue blooms, and Tsumugi had almost doubled over in laughter when he saw.

Tsumugi slumps against the back of a counter and slides down to the floor, face in his hands. The fatigue hits seemingly all at once, he cries, a mixture of exhaustion and relief and trepidation for what's to come next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Photography by Takato Tasuku. ▲
> 
> 2\. [Hamantaschen](https://www.thespruceeats.com/jewish-hamantaschen-cookies-recipe-1136141), of Jewish origin, associated with the Jewish holiday. ▲


	2. i'm dying to know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is still for the beautiful patient wonderful rin!!! so sorry this takes so long

The Snowdrop Cafe explodes into popularity overnight.

Tsumugi's over the moon, pun semi-intended. There's a part of him can't help worrying that it's just a flash in the pan. There's a pessimistic voice in his head that he carries with him; it's soft-spoken, always sounds reasonable, and only pipes up when things are going well. It says: It's shiny and new, Mankai fans want to see their favourite actors; it's a novelty. And novelty wears off.

The problem is that it sounds right. It always sounds right. What does Snowdrop have that any other cafe doesn't, other than… well, Mankai Company's members and alumni?

Tsumugi voices these exact concerns to Tasuku one morning, nursing a cinnamon cappuccino and watching him work. (Tasuku volunteered.) His childhood friend heaves a carton of milk into the fridge in the back, saying flatly:

"If you're thinking about quitting cafe ownership, I'm disowning you for real."

Tsumugi sputters and a little bit of cinnamon goes up his nose.

"That's not funny! Tasuku, what if—"

"What if you're not good enough, what if you mess up again? You've been through this already, and crushed it." Tasuku leans heavily against the glass fridge door. "Besides, you're wrong. You've got better than novelty—you have Fushimi's pastries, and your coffee."

Tsumugi's flattered to have his admittedly elementary barista skills compared to Omi's baking, but he has some reservations about Tasuku's expertise in this particular field. He had once watched Tasuku unflinchingly down a mugful of black espresso and declare it "Pretty good," which was one of the most sinister things he'd ever witnessed in his life.

"You're right," he says, smiling in a way that wouldn't fool a soccer ball with a face drawn on it. "I was just spiralling again. Thanks for the chat, Tasuku."

Once Tasuku is done helping with the stock loading, he's off to rehearsals. Tasuku is quite the prolific actor these days, even more than he already was, having made a name for himself in streaming dramas while staying true to his theatre roots. Tsumugi worries about him overworking himself sometimes, but—well, it's Tasuku, stubborn as a mule, and Tsumugi's got other things to worry about as well.

Tsumugi eventually takes his worries to the counter, watching Taichi and Kumon take and make orders. Tasuku's last statement echoes in his head. _You've got better than novelty—you have Fushimi's pastries, and your coffee._

It's the “your coffee” bit that picks the metaphorical scab. Tsumugi's coffee knowledge is good, but not that good. He still struggles with operating the equipment sometimes, and talking about the vital difference between Sumatran and Indian bean processing[1] gives him a dull throb at the back of his skull.

If he could find someone with the expertise, leadership ability, and time who could also mesh with the Mankai-ish[2] atmosphere... Then that fabled person could help make Tasuku's statement a reality. As it is, Tsumugi’s coffee isn’t anything to boast about.

Tsumugi spends a few more weeks watching the everyday workings of the cafe, in between the weekend adult acting classes he leads at the Mankai Theatre. The momentum of Snowdrop's customers has been promising, so he hires on a couple of more part-timers to aid the initial staff. These are more experienced baristas who can assist and guide the trainees. They’re not the Fabled Bean King of Tasuku’s Prophecy (as he’s come to think of it in his head), but they’re great.

Finally, he lets out the breath he'd been holding for the past four months, and just observes.

A normal day at Snowdrop goes something like this:

There's the salarymen and businesswomen first thing in the morning, then stay-at-home types who love their fresh loaves and pastries. After that, there’s a scattering of people passing through, some on their way in or out of the theatre.

Then comes schoolgirls after club activities, giggle and blushing and avoiding eye contact. At various points throughout the day, college students emerge. They either look like the last thing they need is more coffee, or they're bright-eyed and deadly focused, taking up all five counter stools just to catch a glimpse of 'the super hot patissiere'.

Tasuku was wrong about another thing, too, Tsumugi is amused to find. The customers aren’t just staying for Omi's pastries.

Truth be told, the draw of the delicious pastries (and, er, delicious men?) will be enough to carry them through to almost the end of the year.  
Tsumugi is still far from making a return on the initial investment, but he’s not worried. Sakyo sat him down the instant he heard Snowdrop was a possibility and talked through his entire business plan, for starters.

“Tsukioka, set realistic expectations,” he’d said, slamming a binder full of paper down on Tsumugi’s counter. “Know when losses don’t mean failure. Don’t accept failure either, etcetera, etcetera...”

It ended up being a two hour seminar which Tsumugi attentively took notes through. The notes were helpful, and Tsumugi felt optimistic, because he knew at the end of the day, it was all going to be fine.

It was _not_ all going to be fine.

The coffee machine is leaking and no one on shift has any idea how to fix the machine! They’d all worked briefly at the Actors Cafes from years back, but most of that was just dressing up as waiters… They weren’t prepared for this.

The one experienced barista is off sick, so it was up to the Snowdrop Mankai remnants.

Kumon made a valiant effort by turning the thing off and on again, and Tsumugi was about to call Tasuku (since he’s handy), only to remember he was off on set for a week. As Tsumugi hastily put up an “Out of Order” sign on the machine, Taichi had run to grab Omi, who also knew absolutely nothing about commercial coffee machines.

All seemed lost.

“Wait!!! I’ve got it!!” Taichi exclaimed, waving his phone like it was their only salvation. “Ban-chan loves coffee, and Ban-chan can do anything!”

“That’s… That’s not a bad plan,” Tsumugi admits. Though with Banri’s schedule, there’s no way he’d be in Veludo— who knows if he’d even be in _Japan_. “But you can’t exactly just summon Banri-kun.”

It’s Kumon who grabs Tsumugi’s wrists, his grip loose, but his demeanour intense.

“Can we not?” Kumon stage-whispers. “Sorcerers as powerful as we two… Could we not perform a simple transportation spell!? I say thee nay!”

(Taichi sends his text.)

The doors of the Snowdrop Cafe swing open. A tall figure dressed in a leopard print jacket ignores his shocked onlookers and heads straight for the nicest table by the window. He smiles, just slightly, at the delicate vase of mimosa on the table, before widening into a grin.

Settsu Banri couldn’t have wished for a more contrived, more dramatic entrance.

“Heard someone was having coffee problems?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Sumatran beans are processed differently than most beans, and are known for their full bodied and gently acidic taste. Indian beans are wet-processed, resulting in a smooth, sweet, medium-bodied roast. ▲
> 
> 2\. Similar to, but legally distinct from, 'Mankai-esque'. ▲

**Author's Note:**

> I'm at [@veludoway](https://twitter.com/veludoway). Please talk to me, I get so excited when a human acknowledges me and I'd love more friends especially with all the new A3 fans.
> 
> If you like my fics at all I'd be really grateful if you could [buy me a coffee](https://ko-fi.com/piyos).


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